Penny Lane XxOGAHxX's blog: "It doesn't interest me."

I cling to the thought of you

  like a stain on your memory, 

like a prayer on your lips 

and I linger like the last minutes of the dawn, 

just waiting for you to notice me. 

Sometimes, I stare at your words for hours, 

just trying to make sense of these scratching voices 

that once lulled me to sleep at four a.m. 

we should both stop smoking, you know. 

It's killing us 

slower than you could kill me 

with your stabbing words;  

but perhaps, just as painless. 

And they're just words after all, 

wrapped up in cigarette paper and smoked into existence; 

like a handful of ghosts.

And when I attempt to photograph you,

you always come out as a colored blur

as if you are just too amazing

to be portrayed in focus.

and I don't blame the camera

for blinking too slowly in your presence

You stun

and inspire

the most beautiful disasters.

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting in your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit in pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own,if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tip of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.